Cats and Dogs
by CrystallicSky
Summary: ...and neither is it raining them nor are they fighting. CHACK, ONESHOT


**Cats and Dogs**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**  
Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, sexual implications, allusion to violence/gore, etc.**

**--  
**

Chase was not a happy cat when his mistress brought the new pet home.

He and his human had had many disagreements in judgment over the rather brief period they had lived together.

In the beginning, the well-aged spinster (in good shape for her age and not yet senile) that had taken him in had thought to enforce _rules_ upon him; tell him he was not allowed upon the furniture or was forbidden from breaking into the fridge and eating whatever he liked.

That had been put to a stop, and now Chase was allowed free range among the household: ate what he liked, sat upon what he liked, and shredded what he liked. He felt he was allowed the privilege as he never abused it to become a lazy fat cat and exercised himself to remain of a sleek and lean body.

Later on, his mistress had decided to compensate for her lack of children and concluded that the Li Mao tom would like a queen with which to make a litter. The woman had brought in a stout, fluffy Himalayan female and simply _expected_ them to get along and make cute little kittens.

They did _not._ Wuya, as the queen had been named (hah, how cute, giving her a Chinese name to make Chase more comfortable with rutting her!), was a stuck-up prissy wench that he wanted _no_ part of. Besides the fact that she was too _old_ to mother kittens, anyways, she had an annoying tendency to shed all over _his_ things, eat all of _his_ food, and sleep on _his_ couch.

Wuya was very quickly sold off to a wealthy gentleman named Hannibal when it became apparent that they were _not_ working out, and Chase hailed it as a moment that could not have come too soon.

The house was his again, for awhile, and he was happy.

And now…_this…_ this filthy, flea-bitten, _disgusting,_ drooling mongrel that was being led into _his_ home!

"Alright, Chase," the woman cooed, guiding the canine in by its leash, "here's your new playmate!"

Golden eyes looked the creature up and down: it was a tall dog, taller than Chase by at least two or three times. It was skinny and lean-bodied, looking something like a greyhound walking into the living room while its small paws clacked upon the floor. Its head would not sit still for more than two seconds, darting to and fro as the beast inspected its surroundings excitedly, but Chase had caught a glimpse of pink; red perhaps, but certainly not the typical shade of brown for a canine or even the rare blue.

The cat gave a disdainful sneer to the thing and stalked off, curling up on his couch and making himself comfortable.

His mistress continued on speaking as if he cared, unclipping the dog's leash from his collar and setting him free to waltz around the room and sniff at things. "Now, his name is Jack, and I've been assured he's well-trained and won't make a mess of things. He's smart and friendly, so you two should get along just fine, and oh, his mother was a _show-dog!_ Now, isn't that interesting, Chase?"

The Li Mao showed his immense interest by yawning and curling his tail around his body, refusing to look at her _or_ the dog.

"Ohhh, don't be like that Chase," the woman lightly berated, "you'll love each other!"

She then went on to say something about having to go to the store to pick up some basic things for the new animal in the house and then proceeded to 'leave them alone to get to know each other.'

The hyperactive mongrel darted up to her at the first sign of her departure, licking her hands and whining pathetically, but he was affectionately shooed away and the woman left the house with a, "Goodbye, boys!"

Chase watched in disgust as the dog quickly lost interest in the doorway the human female had exited from and once more returned to sniffing at anything and everything he could get his nose near. It seemed his mistress had been correct in labeling the mutt 'smart' as he seemed to steer clear of the more dangerous objects for sniffing; pity, as the feline had almost been hoping to see the dirty beast snare its big, dumb nose upon the poker by the fireplace.

Abruptly, the big white thing was in his face, a doofus-grin upon its canine face and curiosity in (as he'd thought) red eyes.

**Hi!** it chirped brightly.

With a low hiss of annoyance, Chase curtly replied, _Hi._

**Mistress called you Chase,** it said. **Is that your name?**

_No,_ the cat denied, _it's my alias: I'm an agent placed here to uncover that woman's drug-ring and bring her to justice._

The doggish smile disappeared and those big, ruby orbs stared at him in confusion. **Seriously?**

Chase sneered. _No, you mutt,_ he frowned, _I was being sarcastic._

Immediately, floppy ears were pert and the dog stood at attention, teeth bared in offense. **I'm no mutt!** he growled. **I'm a purebred; my mom won best in show two years in a row!**

_Oh?_ the feline wondered. _And just what have **you** won? What are **your** accomplishments?_

The perked ears went floppy again, and the dog's figure slumped ever so slightly. **Nothing,** he eventually admitted, **but it's not because of my breeding! I'm…mostly up to breed standards!**

_Mostly?_

**I could whoop ass at a dog show if I weren't albino,** the canine grumbled. **That's the only thing really wrong with me.**

Despite himself, Chase snorted. _The regulations of these shows…so ridiculous._ It seemed downright silly that a pretty, purebred dog was excluded from showing simply because of a genetic condition that made him no less of a pretty, purebred dog.

**They're strict as hell,** Jack agreed. Abruptly, his smile was back and he inquired, **What about you? Do you show?**

_No,_ the cat denied, _There is a slight impurity in my bloodline that keeps me out of shows; it is also why my coloring is off for my breed._

A slim head tilted curiously as he eyed the black cat. **What breed are you?**

_Dragon Li,_ Chase replied proudly, _otherwise known as Li Hua Mao or simply Li Mao._ Golden eyes flickered along the wiry, athletic body of the dog before him. _What are you?_ he wondered in turn. _A greyhound?_

**No,** the canine denied, **but everybody thinks that. I'm a whippet!**

Now, that was interesting. _Aren't your kind prone to attacking cats?_ Chase challenged. Not that he was worried, of course; bigger this dog may be, but better, he was not.

**Only if we haven't been exposed to them from a young age,** Jack corrected, idly raising a back paw to scratch at his ear. **I've been around cats before, so I have no problem with you.**

Chase did not reply to that and purposefully ignored the dog: as far as he was concerned, the conversation was over, and Jack should go away, now.

Jack did not.

The lack of reply from the feline did not mean anything to the albino whippet, and as it was, the couch was looking particularly comfortable…

The Li Mao tom hissed and swiped his claws at the paw the minute it touched _his_ couch, causing the canine to recoil with a whimper more surprise than pain.

_This is **my** couch, dog!_ he hissed. _You are not to set foot on it, **ever!** I will not have you sullying my things with your drool and fleas._

Ears back and head ducked, Jack muttered, **I don't drool, and I've never had fleas before…** As if completely forgetting the claws mere moments after they'd been administered, however, the white canine then straightened, his ears perking once more and that oafish grin taking his mouth. **I'm sorry,** he apologized, **I didn't know it was your couch; I'll stay off of it, if you want.**

Well. That'd been easy. _Yes…I would appreciate it if you did that._

**No problem,** the dog chirped, plopping himself down precisely where he was. It was a source of annoyance for Chase that the thing could be _sitting_ and _still_ be at eye-level with him. **I can just sit here.**

_Thank you, Jack,_ he said.

A slim, white tail went to wagging happily behind the creature, and the cat took it to mean that Jack liked to be called by his name. He would have to remember that; in case it ever came up later that he needed to persuade the dog to do something for him.

A few moments passed in silence; big, red eyes looking the cat over curiously and narrowed golden ones sizing the dog up.

**You're pretty.**

Chase blinked. _Pardon?_

**You're pretty,** Jack repeated, that canine smile on his face. **You're a really pretty cat: purebred or not, you'd be a hit at any cat show.**

Honestly pleased with the compliment, the feline purred. _Thank you,_ he said.

**May I sniff you?** the whippet respectfully inquired.

The Li Mao eyed the other animal warily. _Yes…_ he said slowly, _provided the smelling is kept tasteful. I do not want your nose shoved in my face **or** the other end of me, understand?_

**Oh, sure,** the dog agreed, tail wagging again, **I wouldn't do that; not proper dog-cat etiquette.**

Before Chase could ask precisely what dog-cat etiquette _was,_ a long, slender snout was poked into his side; a cold, wet nose burrowing itself amongst his dark fur. It was an…odd feeling, the cat acknowledged: certainly neither pleasant nor terrible, but…tolerable, at the least.

Jack sniffed at him for awhile, getting a good handle on what the feline smelled like. As he'd promised, his nose never strayed too far north or south for the other animal's liking, and the lowest and highest it ever traveled were the cat's hip and neck respectively.

Satisfied with his gathering of his new housemate's scent, the whippet pulled his snout back and smiled. **Thanks,** he said. **You can go back to what you were doing now, I'll leave you alone.**

Chase watched as the dog promptly padded in a circle twice and lie down before the couch, curling oddly on his back with his long, awkward-looking limbs jutting into the air.

This Jack was tolerable, the feline mused; perhaps he might even allow the creature to stay on longer than that dreadful Himalayan!

--

It was going on two months, now, since the albino whippet had entered Chase's home and he had to admit…Jack was not all that bad as a housemate.

As a rule, he was fairly quiet (outside of conversation between the two of them) and had no great tendency to go barking his head off for no reason. In fact, the most he _ever_ seemed to bark was when visitors came to the mistress's house, and those were few and far between, so the feline didn't mind it so much.

Despite Chase's expectations, Jack was not overly needy in his desire for exercise and play and spent a good deal of the day when their owner was gone as the cat himself did: sleeping quietly. When asked about it, Jack had yawned, explained in as many words that whippets had two speeds (35mph and _zero_), and then promptly rolled over onto his back and fell asleep again.

Perhaps, what the feline liked best was the dog's great intelligence: after the very first day, Jack had acknowledged his place in the household hierarchy and remained within its bounds. He'd realized that around here, Chase was top of the food chain and that all he had to do to stay out of trouble was not piss the cat off (or their mistress who _occasionally,_ depending on the situation, ranked above the dog).

Jack remained off the feline's couch, as promised, ate or drank nothing from bowls that were not his own, and obeyed Chase's orders as if the cat were alpha of his pack.

_That,_ Chase liked; liked _so_ much, even, that he played along when their owner was present and behaved nicely around the dog so that the three-year-old whippet didn't get sent the way of Wuya.

Currently, Jack was curled up in his bed; not sleeping and simply passing the time by gnawing on a tennis ball that their mistress had given him to play with as his tail wagged in subtle enjoyment.

Chase watched him silently for a few moments, appraising the sleek, white-furred body obviously _made_ for running that simply lie still and curled up in a pet bed that could've comfortably been bigger.

_Jack,_ he said.

Floppy ears perked and red eyes focused immediately on the feline. Jack didn't altogether drop the ball he was gnawing on, but he stopped chewing, and that was enough for Chase to know he was being listened to.

_Aren't you cooped up in here?_ the cat demanded. _It is clear that you are an athlete and need to exercise, and yet that woman barely **walks** you, let alone allows you to run. Don't you want to stretch your legs?_

**Sure, I do,** Jack agreed. **I miss getting some running time in every now and again, but y'know…mistress doesn't have a lot of time for that, so, I don't mind staying in.** The dog smiled. **Besides, between this bed, this ball, and you, I doubt I'll ever be _bored_ here: you're pretty good company!**

Chase purred low in his throat; oh, he _did_ so love this dog's tendency to compliment him! It simply would not do to have such a respectful follower uncomfortable or unhappy… _What do you say to a bargain, Jack?_

The canine tilted his head in that helpless and adorable way all dogs do to indicate confusion. **Like how?**

The cat stretched briefly and hopped down from the couch, slowly and gracefully stalking over to his dog. _I could see to it that the woman takes you out,_ he promised. _For a **run,** not just a walk. In return, you would have to do me a favor._

The tennis ball at last dropped out of Jack's mouth and he sat up, unintentionally towering over his feline alpha. **What would you want me to do?** he inquired, the slow wag of his tail behind him giving away his glee at the prospect of a _run._

Chase sat before the whippet, looking up with stern, golden eyes that would've immediately cowed the bigger creature had he been out of line. _The woman keeps cat treats on top of the fridge,_ he informed. _The only reason I have not, as of yet, been able to get to them is because I would have to be on the counter to be able to jump up there, and I cannot clear the jump straight from the floor to the counter. If you can help me,_ the cat promised, _I will see you taken for a run._

The barely-there swaying of a white tail increased to a full-out wag and Jack stood to all fours, already padding on small, elegant feet for the kitchen. **I can help you with that,** he brightly declared.

The Li Mao tom followed curiously and watched as the dog approached the kitchen counter. In one deft motion, the whippet's two front paws were up on the edge of the linoleum, his back paws remaining firmly fixed on the tiled floor.

**Go on,** he encouraged, **climb up me.**

Golden eyes blinked. _You want me to use you as a ramp?_ he inquired.

**Sure, why not?**

_My claws will scratch you,_ Chase promised.

**Whatever,** the dog seemed to shrug, **just try not to draw blood, and I'm fine with it. Go ahead!**

The cat decided it was worth a shot and leapt upon the dog's back, his claws digging into slender hips for purchase.

Jack didn't offer so much as a whimper of protest at whatever pain the action must've caused and so the cat continued his climb up the bigger animal, quickly reaching the dog's shoulders and jumping swiftly over Jack's head to land on the linoleum counter.

From there, it was an easy climb over various objects and appliances to the top of the fridge. Within moments, the Li Mao was back down on the counter, baggie of treats held between his teeth.

**Awesome,** Jack praised, **you got 'em!** The whippet briefly analyzed his position, still leaning up against the kitchen counter. **Can you get down on your own, or do you need to climb down me?**

Chase answered his question with one graceful leap straight to the tiled floor, landing perfectly on all fours and without a single treat dropped from the bag.

The dog turned away from the counter and allowed his front half to fall back to the floor with a soft 'click' of his nails, dutifully following the feline from the kitchen. **I helped you,** Jack reminded. **You're gonna get me a run?**

_I promised as much,_ the tom agreed, wrenching open the bag with his teeth and taking a fish-shaped hunk of processed meat into his mouth. _I do not go back on my word. You will have your run, Jack._

Quickly, before the cat could protest, the canine's big, pink tongue shot out and licked the Li Mao right in the face for his gratitude at the promise.

Jack wisely fled the room immediately after.

--

The whippet's tail just _would not_ stop wagging, it seemed.

Currently, Chase was being carted around on his mistress's shoulders as the woman led Jack to an enclosed park on a leash.

Jack might very well wonder until the end of time as to _how_ Chase had set this up for him, but in all honesty, it was quite simple. All he had to do was find a program on the animal-channel that featured dogs and time it appropriately so that he 'accidentally' stepped on the remote and changed the channel while their owner was in the room.

As expected, the woman had been captivated by the program and watched, waiting until the narrator began speaking about the particular breed of dog she owned so as to get a better idea as to how to care for him.

One little mention of how whippets _loved_ to run and should be allowed to at least every once in awhile, and here the three of them were, out to get the canine a bit of exercise.

Chase hadn't been expecting to be brought along on the trip, but the woman who held legal claim over him had decided that Jack would be more comfortable with his first trip out of the house since becoming hers if his little friend was brought along, and so here Chase was, as well.

He wasn't all that much of an outside cat, but it was a sunny day out, and he _did_ enjoy basking in the sunlight, so it was acceptable that he'd been dragged along, too.

Soon enough, they were all settled in a nice spot on the grass, and their owner removed his leash. "There you go, Jackie," she cooed sweetly, digging briefly in her purse for the tennis ball she'd brought along. "Now, you can have a little time to play and stretch your legs!"

Jack looked ecstatic about the whole thing: his mouth was pulled into his typical, playful grin, his ears were up in excitement, and behind him, his tail was generating a very small tornado.

Chase sprawled himself appropriately upon the grass, basking leisurely in the sun as he waited for what would surely be quite the show.

The moment the ball flew from the woman's hand, the whippet was off like a shot, his muscles flexing as his legs propelled him after the ball with an intense focus and a fierce drive. Within moments, the dog was going the speed of a car on any given road as if a cheetah chasing down his prey and with one swift leap and snap of jaws, the ball was caught.

The cat couldn't help but come back up into a sitting position at the sight. Lying around the house and sleeping, Jack looked out of place; his long, slender limbs and body seeming awkward. Out here…_running_ and retrieving things as the sighthound breed was _bred_ to do…

He looked graceful and elegant, a thing of beauty, even! Never mind the fact that it was just a simple game of fetch, Jack was truly a fine specimen of dog when he ran.

It was no surprise that the whippet was back by his owner and housemate within a minute or so, obediently dropping the slightly damp tennis ball at the woman's feet and panting for breath.

"Oh, my goodness," his mistress exclaimed, "you _are_ fast!"

As her hands came up to pet his head and scratch pleasingly behind his ears, Chase offered his own two cents on the matter. _You are amazing, Jack,_ he said honestly. _I don't believe I've ever **seen** a dog move that fast in person._

The whippet preened under the positive attention from both sources and leaned into the petting as he replied, **Thanks, I used to play a little flyball!**

He didn't have time to say anything further, however, as their mistress was ready to throw the ball again and it had the dog's full attention the moment it was raised.

Chase lay back down and relaxed in the sun as the tennis ball was tossed and the canine raced after it like his life depended on it. After all, it certainly couldn't hurt to enjoy a bit of poetry in motion along with his sunning.

Hmm…a pretty, purebred dog, indeed…

--

This a _dog_ park, tuna-breath, the big, bulky Rottweiler snarled at him.  You'd best get lost.

Chase sneered up at the big and hairy drooling thing. _I believe it's my right to be wherever I please,_ he hissed. _I will not be convinced otherwise by a filthy **mutt** like you._

Needless to say, the Li Mao had not been expecting this particular visit to the park (which had been made a regular occurrence by his mistress for Jack's sake) to be interrupted by a confrontation with a big, dumb mongrel such as the one currently breathing moistly upon him, but…he was not intimidated. He knew if need be he could scratch the flea-bitten thing's eyes out or _at least_ dart away before it could do damage to him.

The knowledge made it no less pleasant an experience.

The Rottweiler bared its teeth in a snarl. I _said_ you'd best get lost, _pussy._

Black fur raised along the cat's spine and he spitefully hissed, _I may be a pussy, but at least **I** wasn't born in a back-alley and lived as the only pup my bitch-mother didn't **eat!**_

The dog's chocolate eyes widened in shock before the huge beast snarled and made to snap at the cat in a bite that would've cleanly severed his neck.

Before Chase was entirely aware of what was happening, his throat was constricted and he was moving incredibly fast.

It took him a moment to cotton on to the fact that a slim snout had latched firmly onto his collar and the whippet attached to it was currently hauling ass away from the Rottweiler that'd meant to kill him.

_Jack?_ he queried, being jostled haphazardly by the running canine. _What do you think you're doing?_

**Saving your life, Chase,** the albino dog answered, running for all he was worth and quickly putting a good deal of distance between them and the chasing Rottweiler. **I would think that'd be obvious!**

The feline snorted, more annoyed than anything else as the darker-colored canine began falling behind while they dashed through the dog-park. _I could've taken him,_ he asserted. _His stance was pathetic; I could've blinded him **easily!**_

**And then what?** Jack questioned, beginning to slow down to a more comfortable speed now that the Rottweiler was _miles_ behind and clearly too winded to continue chasing. **Get our mistress sued by the bastard's owner and get yourself put down for being a vicious animal?**

That gave Chase pause. As much as he hated to admit it…he hadn't considered _that._

The whippet finally slowed to a complete stop and gently set the cat down upon the grass. **I know he's a prick,** Jack allowed, **but it'd be just what he _doesn't_ deserve to see you killed for putting him in his place. I like you, Chase,** the dog said, his warm tongue darting out to lick the tom across the face for the second time. **I'd prefer you stay alive so I can keep liking you.**

With that, Jack turned and began walking off, calling behind him, **Come on, Chase, let's find our mistress and get out of here before Slowpoke McRabies catches up and tries to eat you again.**

The feline didn't even bother to protest the lick and simply followed the dog robotically, wondering why he hadn't actually _minded_ the tongue on his face.

--

It was a typical afternoon in their household: the mistress was sitting in her arm chair, sipping some tea, Chase was curled up on his couch, eyeing the birds fluttering about on the TV screen with minimal interest, and Jack was in his bed at the foot of the couch, tossing and turning uncomfortably.

It was conceivable the whippet was uncomfortable due to the chill of the room: it was the middle of winter, and their owner was trying to save on her heating bill, meaning that instead of keeping the house warm and toasty, it was kept a few degrees above freezing.

The human woman had no problem with the low temperature: she had sweaters and mittens and blankets to keep her warm.

Chase didn't mind it, either: he had a thick, warm coat of fur and a cozy couch to curl up on.

In comparison, Jack was screwed: his coat was not made for withstanding low temperatures for a prolonged amount of time and provided little to no insulation.

It wasn't the fact that the dog was cold or uncomfortable that surprised the tom. What _did_ strike him as odd was that he _cared_ that the dog was cold and uncomfortable.

Seeing the younger animal squirming about restlessly just beneath him, unable to even assume the cockroach sleeping position sighthounds were famous for…

It annoyed the cat, somehow, even more so when he thought of the afghan draped over the back of the couch that was left unused.

Chase found himself rolling his eyes and with a slight hiss, he spoke, _Jack._

The canine immediately stopped writhing in his doggie-bed and looked up at him, large red eyes looking even bigger in confusion. **What?**

_I'm sure you would be warmer…_ the Li Mao felt his hackles rising at what he was about to say, but he forced it down and finished, _up here…on the couch…_

Chase had been sure those big, ruby orbs could get no bigger, but he was proven wrong. **But…** Jack protested, **but you said that was _your-_**

_Forget what I said,_ the cat hissed in annoyance, _listen to what I'm saying now, you dolt: get up here!_

The albino whippet cautiously stood from his bed and took a few steps closer to the couch. **…Are you _su-_**

_**Now,** before I change my mind._

Jack offered no further protest and obediently stepped up onto the couch.

Their owner inhaled sharply. "No, Jack!" she gasped. "Get _down_ from there! Chase is _very_ territorial about…his…couch…?"

The woman's words trailed off as she saw the tom allow the dog up with no protest. The whippet engaged in the canine-tradition of padding in a circle once or twice before lying down upon the velvety cushions of the sofa, his body curling into a fairly tight ball. She would've 'awww'ed at the sweetness of the scene right then, her two boys sharing the couch together, had it not become even _sweeter_ a moment later.

Chase uncurled himself from his own ball and climbed up to the edge of the couch, pulling the afghan off it and over the dog before draping himself over the now-blanketed whippet for warmth. Jack gave a content whimper, his floppy ears going back against his skull as a happy grin took his mouth.

Both animals looked over at their owner when she cooed nonsensical words of adoration at them.

**What the hell is she saying?** the canine wondered.

_Nothing important,_ Chase dismissed, _she simply thinks we're **cute.**_

**Cute?** Jack radiated an aura of mischief and declared, **_I'll_ show her cute!** Red eyes slipped closed and the dog's head turned in the direction of the feline on his back before just a _teensy_ bit of tongue swiped at Chase's ear.

The cooing sounds grew shriller and their owner immediately exited the living room in search of her camera.

The Li Mao chuckled to himself. _How devious,_ he purred. _I get the feeling I'm rubbing off on you, Jack._

The dog smiled, laying his head down upon the sofa cushions. **If only in more ways than one,** he muttered softly.

Chase did not fully hear his companion's words for their softness, and he was much too comfortable and sleepy to ask the albino to repeat them. With no further word, his golden eyes flickered closed and he drifted off into a pleasant doze on top of the soft blanket that contained a living, canine warmth.

--

Jack gazed at his housemate with empathetic eyes as the cat moped about.

Recently…their owner had done something…bad.

Jack was a neutered male: he had been neutered as soon as he'd been physically old enough to _be_ neutered, and had lived the majority of his life that way. He was a generally friendly dog and enjoyed whatever attention he got.

Chase was an unneutered male: he had never been fixed and had lived the entirety of his six years of life as such. He, like many cats, was generally asocial and did not like attention unless _he_ solicited it, his temperament having absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was virile.

The woman that owned both he and Chase had come to a different conclusion: Jack was neutered, and he was a sweetie-pie. Chase was _not_ neutered and was unfriendly. Therefore, if she wanted Chase to become a sweetie-pie like she considered Jack…

Well, it was obvious: she had at last brought her cat in to be fixed.

The veterinarian had tried to explain to her that that was _not_ how things worked and that all neutering would do was make him unable to have kittens with a female and reduce any aggressive behavior (which was not even currently an issue). He'd told her that the cat had lived his entire life so far as he was and had developed his own personality; that chances were _not_ good that it would do a complete turn-around all of a sudden.

The woman hadn't listened and had the procedure done anyways.

In Jack's opinion, their mistress was at last, in her old age, beginning to grow senile.

At the moment, however, the whippet had bigger concerns, namely Chase who was sincerely upset over the whole fiasco.

It was nighttime when he finally approached the cat that lie motionless upon the couch.

**Chase?** he hesitantly questioned. **Are you okay?**

A derisive snort. _No._

Jack's ears went back and he whimpered sympathetically. **You shouldn't be so upset about this,** he said. **It's not that bad.**

_Not that bad…?_ Golden eyes glared at him heatedly. _How can you say that to me, you filthy mongrel?!_ he snarled. _I've been **castrated** and it's 'not that bad'?! Where do you get off?!_

The whippet recoiled briefly before sitting down, raising one of his back legs and glancing between them. **Oh, hey, look at that,** he declared in mock surprise, **I don't have any balls, either. I guess I must have a pretty good idea what I'm talking about.**

Chase appeared to deflate at that. _How do you stand it?_ he inquired desperately. _I'm a gib! I feel like a damned **queen.**_

Jack climbed up onto the couch to join the feline. **Well, for one, you can't think about it that way,** he advised. **I don't see any kittens nursing off of you, and that's _definitely_ a dick down there. So, the balls are gone,** he shrugged, **so what? You're still a dude, unless they stuck a vagina on you.**

The cat made a sound suspiciously like a whimper and failed to protest as the bigger animal curled affectionately around his body. _I still feel pathetic,_ Chase protested. _I'm half a tom._

**That's not true,** Jack immediately denied. **The only difference is you can't knock a female up, and who the hell wants that, anyways? Pups _and_ kittens are annoying little buggers.**

_What of sexual urges, then?_ the cat demanded, tone nonetheless subdued. _I've no desire to fuck anything, anymore, and it's **strange.**_

The albino dog exhaled. **I…wouldn't know,** he admitted. **I've never even _had_ a sexual urge; not really, anyways. I got fixed right when I hit maturity, so I never…got to experience that.**

_What is the point, then?_ Chase wondered. _Everything seems rather pointless, right now._

**Sex isn't everything,** Jack informed. **Now that you don't want to have sex…** the whippet's snout nuzzled sweetly against the cat's cheek, that warm and wet tongue coming out to lovingly stroke and black fur, **you've got time for more important things…**

It took a moment to realize what the dog was talking about, and then…

_Oh…**OH.**_

Affection, Jack meant; sincere fondness entirely separate from lust that was hard to attain if one's thoughts were always focused on the physical.

Slowly, cautiously, Chase began to return the dog's licks and nuzzles; finding them comforting.

Jack was more than simply a pretty dog and a tolerable companion, the cat realized. He was every bit the friendly and intelligent creature their owner had first introduced him as going on two years ago, now, and he was making a nonobligatory effort to console the feline in his hour of need because he _wanted_ to; because he _liked_ Chase.

The canine deserved the same treatment in kind.

The two animals silently expressed their love for one another through platonic gestures and cuddles upon the couch, hidden from the rest of the world by the darkness of the night.

--

Jack's hunch had been right: their owner had finally begun the descent into senility.

For the last couple of weeks, it was an extremely lucky thing that both animals were largely self-sufficient, as the woman often forgot to feed them and to let Jack outside or walk him.

They would've been dead by now if Chase hadn't long ago learned how to break into the fridge and Jack didn't have the intelligence to open doors.

Soon enough, it came to the point that the aged lady was deemed unfit to live on her own and was carted off to a nursing home; one that didn't allow animals.

The old woman, wanting her pets to be properly cared for, had made arrangements in terms of what was to be done with them should it ever be necessitated that they leave her care.

Hannibal was naturally very excited to come into possession of the two animals: a relatively new and handsome Chinese breed of feline and a purebred and fully-trained sighthound.

Chase could've easily fled the house before he'd been gathered up by the men the wealthy entrepreneur had sent to fetch the two pets; stayed hidden until the right opportunity came along and darted out the door to live the rest of his life as an alley-cat. It wouldn't have been a problem, as he was a feline and unlike other domesticated animals, his hunting instincts remained intact: he could very easily survive on his own.

It was because of Jack that he allowed himself to be taken. The dog was much too big and possessed too few skills in stealth to hide from those intending to take him to his new master, and even if he _did_ manage to escape, he would not last long on the streets. Likely, he'd starve to death or, if he was lucky, be picked up by an animal shelter and more humanely put to sleep.

The Li Mao could not allow that; not with how close he had become with the canine after The Incident.

He had allowed himself to be taken along with the whippet, and now the both of them were in the back of a particularly nondescript van in separate crates.

**What do you think he's gonna do to us?** came the nervous inquiry from the larger of the two.

Chase fixed his golden gaze upon the white dog curled up behind bars across from him. _Don't worry, Jack,_ he soothed. _We have seen nothing to indicate that he wishes harm to come to us._

**Yeah, but what if he sells one of us?** the canine demanded, his voice quivering. **Or what if he's some kind of freak and wants to _eat_ us, or-**

_Jack, **relax,**_ Chase ordered, pleased to see the albino's ears fold back in submission. _You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. Doubtless, the worst we shall have to deal with in living with Hannibal is Wuya, and I'm quite sure she has a mild fear of dogs: one good bark should put her in her place._

The whippet looked like he wanted to protest: they didn't _know_ this guy, he was a _stranger!_ Instead, Jack took a deep breath and stuck his muzzle through the bars of his carrier, licking Chase square on the nose through the bars of the cat's own cage. **Love you,** he said quietly.

The feline licked back and purred and the dog visibly calmed, knowing by now what such a reply meant.

It wasn't long before the vehicle reached its destination and stopped, and the back doors of the van swung open. The men Hannibal had sent then went about unloading the pets, removing their carriers and setting them on the ground.

Chase heard a thud and a whimper as the crony handling Jack was none too careful and banged the poor whippet against the side of his carrier. He hissed, enraged that his dog had been caused pain and his paw shot out through the bars on his own entrapment, clawing blindly.

His efforts were rewarded with a pained curse and a heavy-handed swat at the side of his carrier with the words, "Fuckin' cat…"

The hard plastic box he was in was placed on the ground as the man went over to help his companion as they allowed Jack out of his cage. The Li Mao was helpless to do anything but watch as the door was swung open and Jack made an attempt to run to him, wanting to be close to the cat.

The attempt was thwarted when he was grabbed in an awkward sort of headlock by one of Hannibal's goons, allowing the other to fasten a leash to his collar. The man let go and the one holding the other end of the leash began pulling towards the large and impressive mansion by which the van was parked.

Jack refused to be led and leaned away from the tug, only to have the other crony get behind him and push to get him moving. The whippet was intelligent and used the deadweight technique that had gotten so many dogs around the world their way when their owners gave up trying to move their unresponsive bulk.

It would've worked if Jack was an overweight Great Dane, a larger-framed and much heavier animal, but as it was, he was a whippet of a small and wiry frame, genetically light-weight so as to boost his speed in a full run.

One of the men adroitly hefted the dog up and over his shoulder, causing a surprised yelp to sound from the canine animal as he suddenly lost all purchase and ability to struggle.

The other man returned to Chase's carrier and good _gods_ was he lucky he didn't attempt to take the feline out, for Chase was _furious_ by now. He thrashed and hissed and clawed within his cage, but the goon was unfortunately just smart enough to stay out of reach of his limited space for retaliation.

Golden eyes caught big red ones as both men carried the animals up to the large and towering estate. Jack gave a low 'whuff' of apprehension and Chase forced himself to calm down enough to purr back comfortingly.

They were brought inside the mansion and carted into what appeared to be a den of sorts, with low light and a roaring fireplace. The moment Jack was set down, he dashed over to the carrier in which the feline was still locked, gnawing fruitlessly at the bars to get the door open.

The cronies about-faced and left the room, locking the door behind them.

Chase warily eyed the door even as Jack continued to bite at his enclosure, and then…

Everything went black.

--

When Chase next awoke, it was to a pair of warm arms cradling his body against a warm chest.

Immediately, he snapped fully awake, hissing and clawing angrily at whoever held him; knowing it to be Hannibal.

He was quite surprised to hear a familiar voice speak, "Hey, easy, Chase, it's just me!"

The voice…was Jack's, but…it was most certainly _not_ in his head.

Chase was wary as he was set down upon a plush, carpeted floor and turned to face the one who'd been holding him.

Kneeling on the ground was a young man, perhaps about nineteen years of age with white skin and hair. He was nude (though his current position offered him modesty), making it clear that he was not possessed of the innate human sense of physical shame, and he wore an affectionate smile, one that looked…oddly familiar. The eyes were what sealed the deal for the feline, however: large and expressive _red_ eyes that looked upon him with a simple fondness that only one other creature in the world had done so with.

_…Jack,_ he declared more than asked.

Chase was proven right when the human youth grinned even brighter, having heard the animal's thoughts and confirmed, "Yeah, isn't it cool?"

The Li Mao prowled closer to the canine wearing a human body, cautious and slow in his steps. _Perhaps,_ he noncommittally agreed, _but…how did it happen?_

_"I_ gave him that body."

The cat immediately tensed and launched himself at the whippet-turned human, turning to perch protectively upon his lap while his golden eyes glared at the one who'd spoken from behind him.

Another man knelt there, this one _much_ older than the teenager that Jack had become; perhaps somewhere in his late fifties. He was bald and had a dusky complexion to oddly contrast with sickly yellow eyes, and his form was stout and a bit slumped. In fact, he looked a bit like a…a _bean._

_Hannibal,_ Chase deduced.

The man smiled, and it was by _no_ means pleasant. "That's right," he confirmed, "and I've got a little…proposition for you…"

"He wants to give us human bodies," Jack chirped, picking the cat up from his lap and holding him, "like the one he gave me!"

The feline eyed Hannibal with suspicion. _And what's the catch?_ he demanded.

"Our service," Jack provided, and Chase turned to face his now-human whippet. "It'll be, like, an indentured servitude thing: he does his whole…black-magicky thing and makes us humans, and we do some dirty work for him in exchange. Oh! And he gives us our balls back," the white-skinned youth remembered excitedly. "Doesn't that sound great, Chase?"

Golden eyes narrowed suspiciously as they glanced back over at Hannibal, who now grinned expectantly at the two that were or at one time had _been_ animals.

"Well, boy?" the man wondered. "What's your answer?"

_…I wish to speak with Jack about it,_ Chase offered in answer. He did not like to make decisions on the spot, particularly ones that involved potential lifetimes of servitude.

Thankfully, Hannibal only offered up another unsettling grin before standing and leaving the room, allowing Jack and Chase a smattering of privacy.

_What were you **thinking?!**_ the Li Mao immediately hissed at his companion. _Accepting such a deal…without even speaking to me about it, might I add!_

"I didn't accept it, though!" Jack immediately protested, eyes wide. "Not yet, at least. He offered me the deal first and I wanted to talk to you about it, too, but you were still knocked out from _whatever_ the hell he did, and…he offered me a preview; no catch, no questions asked, and…Chase, this is totally amazing."

The cat sneered dubiously. _How much better could being human **be?**_ he demanded.

"Opposable thumbs!" the young man exclaimed instantly. "I thought everything everybody said about them was exaggeration, but holy _hell,_ Chase, they come in _handy!_ I mean, I can pick things _up_ now without tasting them! I can open doors without having to work at it awkwardly for ten minutes, and I can reach itches without having to lift my leg, and _oh, my God,_ Chase, I have _balls,_ now! I can't _remember_ the last time I did and it's so awesome! And I mean, I'm about the same size as I was before, but if you turn human, you'll be _way_ bigger, and that'll be cool, right?" Jack grinned in excitement. "What's a couple years of servitude to this guy for all _that?_ I mean, he'll probably die soon anyway, so why not?"

_We don't know that,_ Chase delegated. _This man practices black magic; what's to say he has not made himself immortal?_

The excitement faded slightly, replaced by uncertainty. "Well…" Jack began.

_And what of our senses?_ the cat challenged. _As humans, they would become much worse. A reduction of our perception of the world for an eternity of servitude is **not** a fair trade!_

"It's _better_ to have reduced senses sometimes!" the former-whippet protested. "Like, loud sounds don't hurt as much, and bad smells don't smell as bad…" Jack frowned, his large red eyes pleading. "Chase, this could be really good for us…at least _think_ about it instead of trying to put it down right away…"

The feline sighed, the pathetic and helpless look Jack was giving him instantly weakening his resolve. Glancing away, he paced a bit, truly _considering_ the offer. _What sort of 'dirty work' would we be expected to do?_ he inquired.

"He wasn't too specific," the youth shrugged. "He did say that it'd probably be really illegal; like, maybe drug-running and murdering and stuff like that."

Chase frowned and sat down, glancing over to where Jack sat neatly. The whippet was truly magnificent in a human body: still slim and compactly muscled, just like a runner ought to be, but his face was soft with youth and beauty in a wonderful contrast. And, oh, those eyes! Those lively ruby-colored orbs that stared at him with such _love._ Jack was as beautiful a human as he was a canine, and with an inkling of dread, the cat presumed he just might be _too_ beautiful.

_What if he should have interest in you?_ he demanded roughly. _I will agree to nothing if the deal allows him to touch you as a lover._

"You don't have to worry about that," Jack assured with a mildly disgusted expression. "He's so straight, it's not even funny. I, uh…made the mistake of asking him about whatever happened to Wuya, and he told me. In detail." The youth grimaced and informed, "I'm pretty sure he thought _I_ was straight, too and was entertaining notions of making her _my_ sex-slave, and he tried to put me off it by talking about his…er…_claim_ on her."

Chase frowned. _I'm sorry,_ he offered in sympathy.

"Yeah," Jack shrugged. "But Chase…what do you think? Should we do this?"

_You're asking me?_ the tom wondered in surprise.

"I love you," the pale creature reminded. "I care about what you think. _I_ wanna do this, but…if you think it's a bad idea, I won't."

Chase grinned, pleased at the sentiment. _In truth,_ he said, _I am dubious of this. I am not sure what Hannibal will make us do for him or for how long, and I fear we may be setting ourselves up for something we may not like._

"So…no?" Jack ascertained, disappointment in his tone.

_**But,**_ Chase continued, _I concede that you are correct: it **could** be very good for us to have human forms, even if we will be obligated to serve Hannibal, not to mention that I am quite tempted by the return of my testicles._ A wicked glint sparkled in his eyes and he stood, prowling closer to his human whippet and hopping up onto the youth's lap; brushing his thick, silky fur against the bare flesh of Jack's belly. _I am excited to have a healthy libido once more now that I shall have someone to slake it upon._

Jack smiled at him, his full, soft-looking lips parting to say something…

"Have the two of ya' reached a decision?" Hannibal inquired from the now open door.

Chase's fur rose ever so slightly along his spine at the sudden intrusion, but he straightened and firmly asserted, _Yes, we have. We accept your offer._

The man's smile was not a nice one at the cat's statement, but neither Chase nor Jack had much time to think about it.

The extent of Jack's experience was a tingle throughout his already-human form, turning the temporary 'test-body' he'd been given permanent.

Chase, on the other hand, experienced much more than a tingle. Pain tore through his spine, lengthening it as his body enlarged and his limbs grew. His fur retracted into his body along with his tail and his feline howl became a human scream as, just as suddenly as it began, the transformation ended.

Jack immediately had his hands on the former-cat, steadying his trembling form. Even as he did so, however, he could not stop his eyes from wandering over Chase's new lean and muscular body, tanned an attractive dusky gold. Dark hair was the same shade and luxuriousness of the Li Mao's fur and spilled long and beautiful over powerful shoulders. The true fire in the younger male's belly was lit when he caught sight of the man's face: startlingly masculine and handsome, and with gorgeous and glimmering aureate eyes.

The whippet-made-human did not yet realize it, but he'd already begun counting the seconds until Hannibal left the room.

"The deal is done," the magician declared smugly. "I'll just leave you two to get acquainted with your new forms."

Were it any other situation, Jack might have questioned the fact that Hannibal left so quickly, as if he'd _known_ the young man's intentions for his companion.

Still, it was _not_ another situation, and all Jack cared about was that Hannibal had left and that Chase, the cat that had treated him so well and for whom he had developed an entirely pure love was now human and (with the recent return of a very special part of him) he had begun to develop something entirely unfamiliar to him: a less than pure _lust._

Chase inhaled sharply when he was tackled to the floor, his strange and unfamiliar body taking a moment to respond and place his hands (not paws!) on warm, pale shoulders.

"Jack," he spoke, testing his new voice for the first time, "just _what_ are you doing?"

"Chase," the once-canine said matter of factly, crimson eyes _burning_ with desire, "for the first time in my life, I'm _horny,_ and guess what else? You're here."

Getting the gist immediately, Chase smirked reaching upwards and already realizing the benefit of fingers as he was able to touch and revel in the softness of the younger male's hair. "Eager, are we?" he spoke, the quality of his voice indicating that were he still a feline, it would have come out a purr.

"Got a problem with that?" Jack demanded.

The smirk broadened, and Chase easily assured, "Not a one, my pretty, purebred dog…"

**--**

**A/N: NO SEQUEL. Let's just get that out of the way right now.**

**WITH that out of the way, let me just say I'm ridiculously happy to have gotten this off my list of projects, because even if it's only ONE off a list of MANY, it's still ONE. :)**

**Also, I find it cruelly ironic that it was relatively easy to write/finish this on my own while it took me a year to finally give up on Feline Fallaciousness (the finale of which was just posted) which ALSO features Chase as a cat. .__.**

**Anyways, though, thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! :D**


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